Morrow of yes-terday.
I found myself in the Morrow of Yes-terday.
In the future of the past, it's foriegn to me cause it's never like what I had dreamt in the yesterday.
what are dreams anyway?
If not an extravagant conceit of some imagination, hallucinations, a facade..

Deceptive is that shared eye in the mirror.
In truth, it cannot scry,
The loneliness in my sigh,
Nor my wholly hollow lie.

I spent most my life fitting in
Shapeshifter in my own skin
To squeeze to whatever size
Matched the proportion of everyones lies

Through the glade you'll find a place,
Where the first of a trail is laid.
Run it over mountains to summits atop,
And back down to the canyons below.

Through the forest ammased with the skrawny remains of the trees that once reigned, yet journey on a path of gold.
Over bridges, where blood and bones run below,
And monsters sit in darkness and smoke, waiting till the time their presence may be known.

Follow the trail,
Sets sights not on the bread, but the path ahead.
A Gingerbread house with icing upon it's walls, only a facade, it'll be too late to see before it falls.

through the glass window

all i see is your back

is there any chance?

or am i just fancying ideas in my head?

simple words is all they were

they didn't need to be more

yet i wanted more

i wanted you to love me

i wanted you to push aside 

the facts, the cold truth

that you don't even know me

but i know you

i see through your facade 

i want you

the real you without a mask 

we can't all get what we want

I left the pack
Cause of too many whispers
And all of the filters.
You want the listeners
And I want the strippers
They are not prisoners
They are practitioners
Unlike you “thinkers”
You gossip like sisters.
Talking **** in your slippers
And all I hear are whimpers
From all these high up sinners
Reading made up scriptures.